


The Male Escort

by Mycroftsbottom



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Child Neglect, Daddy Holmes - Freeform, Escort Service, F/M, M/M, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Prostate Massage, Rough Sex, mummy holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26064988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mycroftsbottom/pseuds/Mycroftsbottom
Summary: Greg moonlights as a male escort after his divorce, enter Mycroft who pays for male escorts.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 26
Kudos: 102





	1. Triple the Money

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a re-write of one of the same name I published as a WIP under Anonymous a few years ago that I abandoned.

Greg sipped on his ginger ale pausing when the door to the upmarket bar opened then frowned as a giggling couple came through it.

Katrina was now half an hour late, there was no message on his phone which he’d been checking since a few minutes after the designated appointment time and he could only surmise the new client had either changed her mind or chickened out on going through with the booking. Either way it was no skin off his nose as he got paid regardless since the agency made sure a client paid the entire payment for the booking upfront. It was non-refundable unless he was unable to keep the booking but thus far, he hadn’t needed to cancel any of his bookings.

“Good evening, Venus Escort Agency, Diana speaking.” came the sultry voice of his casual employer.

“Evening Diana, it’s Greg. Look, Katrina was a no show.” said Greg tapping his fingers on the bar.

“No message has been left with us and half an hour is more than reasonable for you to wait.” said Diana “Looks like you get a fully paid night off, sweetie.”

“Anything for tomorrow night?” he asked, hoping to get two nights in for the weekend since his kids were staying with him next weekend and he wouldn’t be able to work.

“No, sorry sweetie.” apologised Diana.

“Thanks Diana, let me know if anything comes up for the weekend after next.” said Greg.

“Will do honey, bye”

He hung up, nodded to the bartender and left the bar. The booking had been for a dinner date but generally once the social niceties, if there were any, were over sex was usually the main reason a person sought out an escort. Diana had rooms at a hotel she got cut rates for that were clean, decent and reasonably upmarket giving the establishment plenty of business in the quieter tourist months. There was no way he would bring anyone home with him and he wouldn't feel particularly comfortable going to a client’s home either.

Barely a minute after he got into his car his phone rang, the display showing the contact number for VEA. Maybe she already had lined up some work for the weekend after all.

“Hi Diana.” he greeted hopefully.

“Hello again, I was wondering if you might be interested in some more work tonight after all…..a client has just called asking for an appointment, unfortunately Edward, the escort he normally books has gone on holidays for a few weeks…….he usually pays double because of short notice but has said he’ll pay triple to make up for any inconvenience and pays only in cash…..he prefers a mature male escort and you are the one of three of our mature gentlemen who is currently available…..would it be a problem to meet him now at a hotel of his choice if you are agreeable?” said Diana in a rush no doubt hoping for a nice little windfall out of the extra booking.

“Oh, um….triple huh, and cash, wow” said Greg, no wining and dining then, it would be straight to the point, but going to a different hotel with a stranger even for that astronomical amount of money……off the books too, one had to wonder why.

“His name is Scott and don’t worry, he’s been with us for a number of years intermittently and quite safe.” said Diana “I’ll text you the details and just deduct our fee from Katrina’s payment if that’s okay?”

“Great, and not a worry about the taking the money from Katrina’s payment” answered Greg “Night Diana.”

Triple the money! That would make up for the lack of work tomorrow night. His phone beeped with Diana’s message listing a room number and a swank boutique hotel in London called Viola’s. He gunned his car; the drive would be about ten minutes and he could make it in eight if the traffic lights were not against him.

He’d had only two regular male clients and a couple of one offs. Diana had been delighted to find out he was bisexual and would take on both male and female clients stating it would give him extra work if he was happy to do threesomes as well. Mostly it had beenfemale clients that booked him, both younger and older. Sometimes he preferred the females, at least it was more intimate with them. He’d gone out and pulled a few blokes after he and Trudie had split but it became predictable when it was just quick blow jobs or hand jobs, the one who’d wanted to fuck was disappointing. Foreplay seemed to be lacking these days and the getting to the main event as quickly as possible the sole aim. He didn’t much care when he was getting paid for it; he was there to provide what the client wanted whether as a date, company or for the sex.

It had been his best friend Sally Donovan who had suggested he look into working as a male escort for extra cash, confiding she had treated herself for an evening with one after Phillip Anderson had tossed her aside to go back to his wife. He had almost fallen off the pub stool he’d been sitting on when she told him how much she had paid, giggling then with a blush telling him about the wonderful dinner they'd had and how great the sex had been with the younger stud. It seemed not only a ridiculous amount of money for sex, but an amazingly easy way to make it. Sally had told Greg ‘he was a bit of alrighty according to quite a few of his female colleagues and would have ladies drooling at his silver fox looks'. Only Sally knew what he did two days a week on his nights off from his main job, though he’d left out the sleeping with men and threesomes bit.

After the divorce from his now ex-wife Trudie he had been lumbered with all the debts and hefty child support to pay each month …….so when Sally had suggested looking into it and gave him the name of the agency she had used he had been quite surprised upon meeting with Diana for an interview how much money he could make. Of course she asked no questions about his life apart from asking if he’d done similar work in the past, she’d taken him on after providing evidence he had no criminal record, had a clean bill of medical health and agreed to the agency’s policies and rules…..he didn’t think she would be impressed that he was a Detective Inspector with New Scotland Yard as his main job so he didn’t volunteer that information.

When the split with Trudie had come he had stayed in Sally’s spare room until he got on his feet, borrowing money from her which he had paid back with his first few weekend payments from the agency, he now rented a small flat and drove a cheaper car and the debts he was chipping away at would be gone by the middle of the year so he could give up the second job and just go back to being a plain old Detective.

After parking his car he went into the lobby of the upmarket hotel, a smartly dressed pretty blonde was seated in one of the lobby chairs with an iPhone in her hand glanced up at him then quickly got up to come over to him before he could go to the reception desk.

“Hello, might you be Nathan?” she asked pleasantly not pausing in her typing on the screen of the phone reminding him of Mycroft’s assistant Anthea who seemed to have a Blackberry as a permanent extra appendage.

“Um, yes.” said Greg.

“Follow me, please.”

He hesitated a moment before following her and wondered if perhaps Diana had forgotten to mention it might be a threesome which he had no problems with…. the smartly clad woman was quite beautiful after all.

He followed her to the room number Diana had told him and opened the door for him.

“He’s currently taking a call out on the balcony, help yourself to a drink from the bar and make yourself comfortable until he’s finished.” she said and departed, leaving him in the sumptuously appointed suite.

Greg went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. He wandered through the suite until he found the huge master bedroom, toed his shoes and socks off and laid down his bag. To kill some time until his client had completed his business he turned on the TV and was not surprised to find even in these swank places there were porn channels and kept the sound on low so as to hear when his client stepped back in from the balcony and watched a male shag a female in a variety of positions while she squealed and moaned in exaggerated pleasure with a background of tacky 70’s type music. He snorted at the predictability of it all, at least the bird had nice set of perky tits that were real and bounced about rather than those inflated with surgery to grotesque proportions like airbags. He found adult channels quite hilarious and sad at the same time.

He didn’t notice the man had stepped in until he heard a mobile phone beep and shot up from the small sofa, quickly turning the television off. He froze as he took in the man who was taller and around the same age as than himself dressed in a pinstripe waistcoat that matched his trousers, all tailored and not off the rack like his own. A crisp white shirt, burgundy silk tie and highly shined leather shoes completed the ensemble and as always screamed impeccable and monied. The lack of a suit jacket looked bizarre on him.

*Oh god, no* he thought to himself.

Blue eyes flickered over him, the man’s expression did not change from cool politeness at seeing him, his half hard cock from watching the porn on the tele rapidly deflated. Of course, the other man wasn’t surprised to find him here, no doubt he’d known from the moment he’d contacted the agency for a job interview because that’s what the wanker did. Greg swallowed wondering what the fuck Mycroft Holmes was playing at, his brain going to Diana’s statement that ‘Scott’ had been with them for several years paying for escorts. 

“You must be Nathan” enquired the man evenly, as always poshly formal.

Greg narrowed his eyes, so that was the way this was going to go down then.

For a moment he was tempted to just grab his jacket and fuck the hell off out of there, but that coolly polite expression on him had always pissed him off and he decided to play the game, treat the man like any other client and take his triple payment the idiot was prepared to pay.

“Yes.” said Greg quite unnecessarily “Your, whatever she is, let me in.” Probably another Anthea at his beck and call though he did like Anthea a lot more than Mycroft, she at least smiled.

Blue eyes continued to study him just like Sherlock, deducing and calculating. Greg deliberately ran his eyes over the other man taking in details – though a bit of a wanker he’d always thought Mycroft was quite attractive in a public schoolboy kind of way, his reddish auburn hair was immaculately styled though receding a little, his full lips sensuous and his figure was gracefully slender with long legs. The man always smelled nice, the cologne he generally wore was subtle yet woodsy. It was always nice when a client had good hygiene habits. Again, the awkward silence and blue eyes studying him. Greg wondered about Edward that Mycroft normally paid, currently frolicking on a beach somewhere.

“I do hope the short notice was not inconvenient, I do not work set hours or days.” said ‘Scott’ coming into the huge bedroom “May I offer you a drink?”

“No, not inconvenient at all.” said Greg truthfully “And I have some water I helped myself to, thank you…Scott”

“Perhaps we might go over your ground rules?” asked ‘Scott’ evenly after several moments.

Greg wondered if the guy was into really kinky shit asking the question, not that there was anything wrong with kinky shit if you weren’t vanilla but it was a bit awkward when a client asked to do something that wasn’t your bag. He’d been quite disconcerted when one of his female clients had wanted him to slap her about in a not good way even after telling her his ground rules, thankfully she had not mentioned it again once he had reiterated his ground rule of no violence.

“Money upfront before we start, I do the usual stuff…….oral and anal, both giving and receiving in any position you like…..if you want bareback then we’ll part ways now because condoms are not negotiable……I don’t mind negotiating mild to medium B&D, roleplay, fantasy and a bit of rough but I won’t do violence, fisting, breath play, bloodplay or bodily functions that belong in the bathroom” said Greg seeing if he could embarrass Mycroft who didn’t blink an eye.

“Scott’ nodded withdrew a money clip fat with notes from the inside pocket of his waistcoat and thumbed through the wad of hundred-pound notes tucked inside it before taking out nine one hundred-pound notes to hand over to him.

Greg took them and slipped them into his trouser pocket. Three hundred for the first hour regardless if the full hour was up or not, then two hundred every hour after that was the fee Diana had recommended, double for a threesome……the agency took 20%. Nine hundred quid for an hour, it was a ridiculous amount of money really.

“So, is there anything in particular you would like?” asked Greg when ‘Scott’ remained silently gazing at him.

For a moment Greg thought he saw a flicker of indecision cross the other mans face, like he might change his mind but then the cool expression wiped it away.

“I would like you to remove your clothing” said ‘Scott’ going over to sit primly on the end of the bed.

Greg did it slowly like he would with any other client keeping his eyes on those blue ones that remained fixed upon him as he unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it down off his shoulders. He’d never been self-conscious or prudish when it came to nudity, he wasn’t as perfect as a man half his age but for 43 he looked pretty damn good. He ate healthy sticking to take-away and a couple of beers once a week, ran three times a week and had taken to going to the gym twice a week when he’d taken this job.

Blue eyes slid down as he let his trousers fall to the carpet, expression not changing as he also let his boxer briefs fall, his flaccid cock and smooth balls bared to his gaze. He generally wasn’t fussed with pubic hair, but Diana had suggested some manscaping hinting ladies liked grooming, so he went hairless down there and his chest was smooth. Waxing had been a torturous experience and hadn’t got any better in repeat visits. 

“Turn around, please.” asked ‘Scott’ and Greg did as he was bid quite content in the knowledge the hundreds of squats and lunges he did every week had made his arse and thighs look quite fit. 

“Do you mind if I use my own condoms and lubrication?” asked ‘Scott’ after several moments.

Greg swallowed, shit, this was really going to happen.

“Not a problem.” said Greg composing himself and then turned back around. As long as condoms were used, he didn’t care whether a client or he provided them.

Wordlessly ‘Scott’ approached him and Greg stood still as fingers lightly trailed across the skin of his right upper arm where the tattoo of a simple Celtic cross with a red rose twined around it sat that he’d had done on his sixteenth birthday in rebellion, his Mum had gone absolutely ballistic over it . The tattoo on his left hip was touched next, a simple Celtic knot he had liked and done six months after the first one. ‘Scott’ moved behind him and touched the last of his tattoos; a pair of angels wings he had done for the little one he and Trudie had lost to miscarriage at 10 weeks in between his oldest and middle child. A nose ran lightly up the back of his neck and a clothed crotch pressed up against his nude backside. 

*A client like any other* he reminded himself *He’s just a paying client*

He waited to be directed by the man who nosed at his hair.

“I would very much like you to use your mouth on me” said ‘Scott’ coolly.

Greg turned around and slid to his knees. With practiced ease he flicked open the button and lowered the zipper on the expensive wool trousers before dropping them and black boxer shorts down willowy thighs dusted lightly with strawberry blonde hairs. The fragrant clean warmth and male musk made his own cock take interest.

At least there would be no need to coax a shy prick to attention; the circumcised head was peering out at him from between the gap in the white shirt, and upon closer inspection the girth was slender and length long like the man himself and there was no doubt that Mycroft was a genuine redhead. ‘Scott’ produced a condom from his waistcoat pocket and held it out. Greg took it, tearing open the wrapper then fitting it around the erect shaft rolled it down, pinching the tip.

He parted his lips tracing his tongue around the ridge of the head, licking up and down the vein on the underside before tasting the pleasant flavour of the man by sucking a full and furred ball into his mouth and rolling it with his tongue. He paid the same attention to its counterpart, letting to go with pop. The hitched breath was barely audible when he slid his lips over the encased head, sucking on it like it was a lollipop. He had always enjoyed giving head, getting quite good at it when he was young and played around, liking it probably more so than eating a woman out.

‘Scott’s’ fingers slid into his hair cupping the back of his head, the man silent but for the increased rate of his breathing. Closing his eyes Greg sucked and licked giving him an unhurried blow job lasting minutes longer than most he gave a blow job to. Greg relaxed his aching jaw merely eliciting another hitched breath when Greg took a deep breath and swallowed to take the slender length down his throat, pressing his nose into the neatly trimmed gingery pubes that smelled of floral soap. The hands in his hair tightened and Greg braced to get his throat fucked but the other man remained still keeping Greg with his cock in his throat but as soon as Greg drew back for breath they loosened, and ‘Scott’ moved back.

He opened his eyes to look up at 'Scott' whose cheeks were flushed pink, lips reddened and slightly swollen as if he had been biting them and licked his own spit slicked swollen lips.

“I’d like you on the bed now, facing away please.” said ‘Scott’, voice now deeper and huskier than it had been before though still coolly polite.

Greg rose, gracefully slipping onto the bed, pulling two feathery pillows down under his chest and rested on them, crossing his arms above his head then moved his knees apart at a comfortable width before tilting his arse up a little, face growing warm at the position that male clients seemed to prefer.

*He’s a client, you don’t care normally when you are face down and arse up for another client* he reminded himself.

He waited then after a few moments the bed jiggled, ‘Scott’ shifted up behind him. Normally he would have done a little preparation when meeting up with a male client, but the booking had been at such short notice he’d hardly had the time to do so.

“Sorry, I would have prepared myself somewhat, but I wasn’t expecting…….” began Greg apologetically.

“I didn’t expect you to be ready given the short notice” said ‘Scott’ “Do you mind if I prepare you or would you rather do it yourself?”

“You decide; I don’t mind either way.” said Greg though he was lying on that score. 

*Just a client, you’ve done this before* he told himself.

He’d really prefer it if Mycroft did it, shoving his own fingers up his arse with the current audience would feel degrading. Greg closed his eyes when no demand for him to do it himself came he waited for the methodical and likely hurried preparation to begin after he heard the crinkle of a packet of lube being opened, hands grasped his arse cheeks and parted them then a slippery thumb brushed over his hole. He allowed his thoughts to wander like he normally did, going to the current book he was reading and wondered if the main protagonist would end up the murderer after all.

He grimaced at the slight burn of a finger going in too quickly but at least the man didn’t jab it into him. ‘Scott’ didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get inside him and was quite gentle with fingering him, but it usually went quicker if he’d done some stretching before coming to meet a male client. His thoughts went back to paperwork he’d been neglecting in his inbox on his desk that he’d need to get stuck into on Monday.

He opened his eyes when hands tapped at the inside of his thighs indicating for him to move them apart more, he shifted widening them then two fingers slipped into his arse, the burn minimal but Greg jerked with a grunt as they were pressed inside up to the knuckles. 

“You really don’t have to bother with……fuck!” swore Greg when they retracted back a little and hooked downward towards his belly, stroking inside him. Trust the wanker to know exactly where to find that bugger. Greg shuddered and swore again as tendrils of pleasure skittered up his spine. Oh, that was good. It was very, very fucking good. It had been an exceptionally long time since someone had pleasured him from the inside like this. His prick started to leak all over the swanky bedspread and he moaned like a slut on those fingers chasing the exquisite pleasure that was building inside him.

Abruptly the fingers were removed from his arse making Greg hiss with the sudden emptiness. He rubbed his face on his arm trying to catch his breath staying as relaxed as possible listening to ‘Scott’ open another condom, a moment later a hand was laid on his lower back and the latex covered head touched his hole. The man wasn’t gentle, but neither was he rough and careless; Greg groaned, he loved this sensation, the combined pleasure/pain of being slowly filled was just fantastic.

Greg squeezed around the length inside him producing a gasp from the man.

“Fuck me nice and hard”

“Are you always demanding with your clients?” asked ‘Scott’ coolly.

Well, fine……he’d keep his mouth shut like a good little whore. His prick deflated like the air escaping out a balloon. Silent now Greg didn’t bother meeting the man’s languid thrusts as he was fucked. Well, at least it had been a very financially beneficial evening, and he would still be able to go home at a decent time and probably grab some Chinese take-away since he’d not had dinner and watch an episode or two of Last Tango in Halifax…..

‘Scott’ thrust into him hard, eliciting a loud grunt from Greg at the unexpected roughness, knees skidding up the bedspread. Hands gripped his hips firmly and pulled him back the few inches he’d moved and held him in place as the man took him hard enough to make the headboard start clattering into the wall. He idly wondered if someone was on the other side of the wall listening to the rhythmic banging of the bed into the wall that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a rough coupling.

For some reason, the thought made his cock grow hard again. Greg swore under his breath as ‘Scott’ changed to fucking him in a languid slide again. Soft hands left his hips to slide up to his back to his shoulders and hold them, the languid slide turning into a grinding against his arse. 

“Up, please”

Greg went up onto his hands. Hands let go of his shoulders and fingers trailed lightly down his back then down his sides to his chest to dance lightly over his nipples, as teasing as the cock that went back to lazily pumping in and out of him.

“No touching yourself.” said the man, his voice even and steady as Greg reached a hand underneath himself. Greg put his hand back clenching his jaw.

He squeezed around the prick inside him and held him tight to be a bastard and ‘Scott’ gasped softly again but it was quite clear ‘Scott’ was not going to be a quick fuck and would be making use of the entire hour. ‘Scott’ paused keeping himself fully seated and scratched over both his nipples gently. Greg shivered feeling goose bumps break out over his skin and his prick thickened again. 

He’d always been very responsive there, but generally male nipples were overlooked as an erogenous zone unlike women’s nipples that were lavished with attention. He'd found out how much male nipples could be just as sensitive as a woman's when he was 14 and the girlfriend he had at the time complained he was too rough playing with her tits and shoved her hands up his top and pulled at his nipples. She had been offended and dumped him when he asked her to do that again to him.

Greg’s jaw went slack, and he moaned in bliss as his nubs were plucked and tweaked, the touches sent little sparks of pleasure down into his balls making them ache. It seemed the man was quite content to delay his own pleasure to draw out embarrassing sounds from him as the sensitivity grew in his nipples the more they were played with. He jerked his nipples away from fingers that flicked them, the fingers then pinching both nipples and twisting. Greg wailed as they went hypersensitive unsure whether to sob with relief or beg the man to keep doing it as the touches to his nipples ceased.

‘Scott’ shifted back and completely withdrew his erection which hadn’t flagged any inside his arse the entire time.

“Turn over Nathan.”

Greg kept his face impassive as he rolled over onto his back, his cock slapping wetly against his belly. It was a little unnerving that the other man was still fully dressed making him keenly feel his nakedness. Scott’s cheeks were deeply flushed to a ruddy red though he remained devoid of any expression, his blue eyes dropped from Greg’s face to his hard cock stuck to his belly with the sticky pre-come he’d been leaking.

The other man put his hands under his knees, pushing them back and open so that his hips lifted from the bed. Greg swallowed focusing on the wallpapered ceiling above the bed feeling dirty now he was spread wide and exposed. ‘Scott’ shifted up, re-entering Greg a little then hooking his arms around under his knees he held his legs open by grasping Greg’s wrists firmly but not tightly so that Greg could pull them out easily enough and held them either side of his hips on the bedspread. He felt blue eyes on his face again and Greg stiffened when ‘Scott’ sheathed himself to the hilt making him feel impossibly full.

“Look at me”

The words were low, quiet and demanding. Greg wanted to keep his eyes on the ceiling, away from the scrutiny of the man and when he looked to ‘Scott’ he expression was calmly blank as he lazily pulled almost all the way out of Greg shifted to tilt Greg's hips a little more then slid home again. Greg arched up and shuddered, letting out a shocked breath.

The drag of his cock in this position effortlessly stimulated his prostate, the slight pressure of the angle was both a little uncomfortable like he needed to take a piss but sent tingles up the underside of his cock as well as down into the slit. Greg clenched his fists at the slow slide of the cock inside him, arousal growing in the pit of his abdomen. ‘Scott’ made no sound, and each time Greg looked at him he was watching Greg’s reactions and breathing evenly. 

He didn’t know how long they were like this, but Greg now involuntarily squeezed around the prick inside him each time it almost nearly withdrew from his body before slowly sliding back inside. His legs were trembling, and the tingles had radiated down his legs and into his stomach. His awareness began to narrow down to those sensations, and he couldn’t hold back the sounds that fell from his mouth or the whimpered breaths. ‘Scott’ was entirely composed, in complete control and soundless apart from his deep red mottled cheeks. Greg let his eyes drop closed and tried to buck up, wanting to get some friction on his neglected cock that had wept all over his stomach, desperate to come.

Scott drew back and thrust hard into him and Greg jolted, crying out at the delicious fire that ignited low in his belly and radiated outwards……..he had never felt anything like this. Greg didn’t care about the sounds he made, the stimulation was enough to take him to the brink but not go over it, held on the edge until he was shaking and breathless, his cock feeling like it was throbbing with his heartbeat.

Suddenly the cock inside him stilled and Greg opened his eyes, chest heaving to look at the man who was still silent, staring down at him with eyes whose pupils were blown wide. He wanted to plead; beg the man to keep fucking him to completion and praying to god the quiet, emotionless man wouldn’t leave him still hard and unsatisfied.

‘Scott’ let go of his wrists and bent down bracing his hands either side of Greg’s head, then lightly kissed corner of his mouth. His male clients normally didn’t kiss, a few of his female ones liked to be kissed and Greg didn’t mind kissing if a client wanted that from him. He’d expected dominating, hard kisses but was surprised by the soft press of open lips and a tongue licking gently into his panting mouth and kissed the man back. He could taste tea, something vaguely sweet and a hint of bitterness from a cigarette smoked perhaps hours ago when he slid his tongue against the tongue in his mouth.

The man moaned softly into his mouth, the first sound he had made. He abruptly abandoned Greg’s mouth and Greg threw his head back as he quite suddenly was fucked fast and hard. Greg’s control completely slipped away when fingers pinched his nipples, he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined that he’d shouted '"FUCK!" or actually did it…..he could dimly hear 'Scott' panting harshly, lips on Greg’s throat as the headboard slammed into the wall and the bed squeaked.

He grew dizzy and he could hear his own heart hammering in his chest as he spiraled higher, quite sure he begged the man to touch him, the intense pleasure struck him like a punch to the gut and rocked him down to his very core. He felt his body lock up, unable to catch his breath and was blown apart, put back together then blown apart again.

Greg opened his eyes a little disorientated and heavy with fatigue, a soft blanket covered his nakedness and it took him a moment to realise he was not in his own bed.

“Hello”

Startled he sat up glancing around the hotel bedroom, the blanket sliding down to his waist as he set eyes on the smartly dressed woman who was Mycroft’s usual side kick sitting comfortably in a corner chair, the phone appendage in her hand.

“I was asked me to remain behind and ensure you got along once you woke up.” said Anthea simply, eyes glued to her phone as she tapped on the keys.

He looked over at the little alarm clock, he couldn’t have been out of it for more than a few minutes since he’d gotten here at 8.30, spending approximately an hour with Mycroft……the man must have had a rocket up his arse to get out in such a hurry.

Greg rand a hand through his hair. Christ, that had been a first……literally fucked senseless.

“Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?” he asked wanting to take a quick shower to remove the stickiness of the lubrication clinging to his arse.

“Help yourself Gregory.” she said making no move to leave the room.

He got up, if she didn’t give a hoot about his nakedness then neither did he. His legs were a bit wobbly and shaky as he collected his clothes from off the floor and then padded to the bathroom glancing over his shoulder at the woman who quickly ducked her eyes back to the phone after getting an eye full of him in his birthday suit.

Greg’s own eyes almost fell out of his head as he saw his reflection in the mirror. His throat looked like that when he’d been a teenager, love bites sucked up that were deep purple in two places.

“Christ, how the hell am I meant to hide those……fucking vampire!” swore Greg grimacing at the state of his skin.

Quickly showering then dressing he found the bedroom empty and padded through the suite to fetch his shoes, socks and bag. The woman was leaning against the luggage rack waiting for him still on her phone. After putting on his shoes and socks, shoving the cash from the pocket into his bag he stomped past her to the hotel door and yanked it open.

“Tell the vampire thanks for the teenage tramp stamps, they look really great on a man in his forties.” said Greg sarcastically “Perhaps next time Mycroft engages the services of an escort he might think about donning a fucking ball gag if he can’t keep it below the collar.”

With that he stomped down the corridor and the eyes of the concierge fell upon on him as he walked through the lobby, making him feel like he was doing the walk of shame. Sliding into his car he winced, feeling it in his arse from the fucking Mycroft had given him……he bloody hoped if a booking came along the following evening it would be a woman or a male that preferred to bottom.

It wasn't going to be much fun putting on a scarf to hide the marks on his throat, the September days were still warm enough to get about in a shirt or t-shirt. He hoped the angry words he’d left to be passed on by Anthea were bitchy enough to let Mycroft know he did not appreciate having his neck chewed on, maybe Edward his usual escort didn’t mind being a chew toy when Mycroft fucked him.

He switched on the car then shook his head and groaned aloud.

Holy shit, he’d just had sex with Mycroft Holmes.

Inside the hotel room Anthea wiped tears of laughter from her eyes after sending a text to her boss so he knew Greg had left. Anthea couldn't wait to relay the message to Mycroft face to face just to see his expression. She liked Gregory Lestrade; he’d never been one to shit himself or act like a sycophant when confronted with Mycroft plus he was an excellent Detective Inspector. He was also very handsome, and she could see why Mycroft had given in to the attraction he’d harboured towards Gregory for many years after finding out the Detective Inspector was hiring himself out though he probably should have just asked the man out on a date.

Anthea had made sure she had gotten an eyeful of that entire package as he'd got up to go to the bathroom....so very delicious, such a delectable bottom and if she wasn’t mistaken that thick cock had been at least eight inches…..she could have a very good time with that kind of generous endowment. She had never liked Edward much, fake smiles, fake flattery and fake in the bedroom......oh yes, she had heard the simpering twat in the bedroom.... he sounded like a bad pornographic movie. Mycroft barely spent half an hour with him unlike Greg where he’d stayed the entire hour…. nor had she missed the flushed cheeks and satisfied air when he’d called her up to the suite.

She pocketed her phone and tittered at an image of a ball gag stuffed in the mouth of her boss and those livid love bites on Gregory’s neck while she swept the hotel room ensuring there were no traces of the tryst. She was quite sure Mycroft would be back for more.


	2. Wanting More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though I adore Mummy and Daddy Holmes in the Sherlock TV series I'm afraid in this one they are not nice people.

Mycroft pursed his lips, completely distracted from the thick stack of papers in front of him and glanced over to the folders on the corner of his desk. He hadn’t yet read the files Anthea had collated on multiple men from several different escort agencies he’d requested. Whilst one should be armed with all the facts when it came to these things and not simply rely on an agency’s assurance their staff was thoroughly checked, it would be lax to not have all information at hand in the unfortunate event of an indiscretion or attempt at blackmail. Such folders he had read with boredom in the past, he had little interest in their mundane personal lives and sought only to relieve himself with their bodies. He was quite sure if anything of relevance surfaced then Anthea would have discarded the data as not suitable. It wasn’t as if he was seeking out anything other than a professional service like any other professional service, it was just sex……though the sex he’d had coming up four weeks ago with 'Nathan' instead of Edward had been far from mediocre.

Mycroft was not interested in all the emotional entanglements a relationship would bring and from the very first at age 18 he’d paid for sex. The first and subsequent two times after that had been with an escort named Quentin who had been more than twice his age and quite understanding of his lack of hands on experience though Mycroft had been well versed in the theoretical aspects of all things regarding sex. Quentin had been an excellent tutor introducing him to the practical applications of how to pleasure a male body and had been the only man he'd allowed to penetrate him, both in order to rid him of his virginity and to experience what it was like to bottom for another man.

Relationships were destructive, involving oneself with sentiment was dangerous…. caring was not an advantage. He had learned that at a young age when palmed off to nannies and housekeepers as early as he could remember, rarely seeing his parents and then was sent to boarding school at the earliest opportunity. In the three years he attended boarding school he learned he was different to other children…. three miserable bloody years of ridicule and scorn bullied and suffering more than one beating. 

Worse was seeing the parents of many of his peers come to collect them, lavished with hugs and kisses while he merely stepped into the back of a car nodding at the driver who had been sent to collect him and convey him to a home where it was usual to find his parents absent, and if they’d been home, he would have merely been acknowledged with a frown then would be ignored. The older children were clever in knowing only to hit the younger ones where the dormitory masters and teachers didn’t see the bruises and welts. When he had come home at the end of first term with a split lip and loosened front tooth from a 10-year-old who had been fond of kicking him up the backside too. Father had merely said it would toughen him up and make a man of him despite Mycroft informing his Father the school had lied and he had not been injured playing rounders. There had been other things that had gone on after dark, things that thankfully nobody wanted him for though he had lain under his blankets terrified he would be singled out.

He had been alone until Mummy had brought William home just after his seventh birthday, the pregnancy had been an accident and more than once she complained about having the inconvenience of it all. Mycroft had not been an accident; he knew he was the requisite heir though there had been no planning for a spare. When his new brother had been brought home he had been a small, pale waif with a mop of dark curls who drove Mycroft up the wall with his fussing and noise. His parents seemed to be absent more than ever from the house inside 3 months with his non-stop crying.

When he’d had enough, he had marched into the nursery when the Nanny had left William there to scream behind a closed door. Mycroft had taken him out of the cot, held him in front of his face like he’d seen Nanny do when she threatened William to shut the fuck up. He had scowled at him and tried to be authorative like Father.

“It will do you no good, making all this noise is not going to make any difference……you are irrelevant just as I am, and you might as well just get used to it William Sherlock Scott Holmes!” he’d growled at the 3 and a half month old frowning at how tired, miserable and sickly the baby looked.

Watery pale eyes the same colour as Mummy’s had stared at him, the screaming blessedly ceased and the silence had been deafening in his ears as Sherlock quivered with hiccupping sniffles. He had stood frozen to the spot at the little hand that lifted and clumsily tried to reach for Mycrofts hair; his brother had blown a bubble out of the nostril of his runny nose and cooed. Something in his chest had hurt as William revealed his lack of teeth and graced him with a gummy smile.

“That’s better, there is no need for the relentless din you are creating....surely by now you have realised nobody will have a care if you cry day and night” he had told his brother firmly, changing his mind not to just put him back in his cot. Instead he carefully cradled him in the crook of his arm like he’d seen in a Mothercraft book he’d read in the library at school when he'd found out Mummy was pregnant then took out his handkerchief to wipe the snot from William’s nose and told his brother the Nanny was a stupid troll who didn't have two brain cells in that head of hers which earned him another toothless smile.

Jiggling him a little while rocking him, Mycroft had hummed Brahm's Lullaby quietly to him so that Nanny didn’t hear and William had held his thumb in his tiny fingers, eyes fixed upon him until he'd fallen asleep snuffling and smacking his lips. It hadn’t been difficult for his seven-year-old brain to comprehend William was looking for human closeness and was expressing it the only way he knew how by demanding attention with his screaming. 

They lived in a large home, were rich and lacked for nothing materialistically but emotionally they were completely neglected and starved for affection. Whenever he could he stole about when Nanny wasn’t around to talk, sing and cuddle William who cried less and smiled happily when he saw Mycroft. After a month Mycroft began to call his brother Sherlock rather than William, because like his own name it was different whereas William was common and boring......and his brother was anything but common and boring.

Clenching his jaw Mycroft took out his wallet and went into the zippered compartment at the back and slipped out the small folded photograph he kept hidden there. It was a black and white sample size taken by a professional photographer when he was eight years old. These had been tossed aside into the bin by Mummy with a curl of disdain since none of them were of her children posed like dolls and looking completely perfect the way she wanted it.

One-year old Sherlock had decided he did not want to dress up like a little sailor and sit for photographs, sitting still for hours for a photo that would please Mummy was boring. Nanny had cajoled, offered bribes, swore, threatened under her breath and even promised to allow Sherlock to go and get dirty in the muddy pond when they got home if he was a good boy and let the nice man do his job……and didn’t William want to make Mummy happy? Even at such a young age Sherlock was smart enough to know that Mummy didn’t give a fig about him thus why should he give a fig about her.

Of course, Sherlock being Sherlock would not just sit still and get it over with like Mycroft did. He had thrown his sailor hat to the floor and quickly ran to escape the exclusive photography studio only to be snatched up by Nanny who kept a smile pasted on her face as she almost threw Sherlock back on the bench where they had both been told to sit and jammed the sailor hat back on viciously. It had not been put on straight and Mycroft had turned to Sherlock pleading with his eyes to just sit still for a few more minutes as he rearranged the hat and sat it back on tidily, his brother had poked his tongue out at him and Mycroft had given him a small smile of indulgence. The photographer had snapped the camera and captured them both in that candid natural moment where they were interacting with each other as brothers rather than posed mannequins ….a moment in time where nobody could see they were different, unloved and unwanted but saw two normal happy boys.

That day had marked a turning point. Nanny dropped all pretense of acting nice the moment they entered their home, her shouts had even brought their housekeeper out of the kitchen where she stood watching and did nothing, indifferent to all of it but had never been actively cruel to them. Nanny had called them all manner of nasty words, telling them their parents would be overjoyed when the pair of them were in boarding school most of the year and didn’t have to put up with their shit. Sherlock, unaffected and uninterested with her tirade, turned away and Nanny had lunged at Sherlock grabbing his arms, shaking him violently and making him scream. Mycroft had pulled on her arm to stop her from hurting Sherlock and she had backhanded him across the face knocking him over.

Sherlock had thrown himself at Mycroft, shaking with fear as he huddled into him for protection. He had wrapped his arms around his brother keeping his eyes on the Nanny and told the Housekeeper coldly to call his parents to come home immediately. Mycroft didn’t know what Nanny had seen in him when she took a step towards them to grab his brother again, but she had rapidly taken a step back when told her in an icy voice he would kill her if she laid a hand on Sherlock: thankfully, she had turned on her heel and left them alone. Mycroft would have used his bare hands to strangle the life out of her in order to protect his brother; to this day Mycroft would crucify anyone who hurt his brother….the only person he had ever loved and loved him in return though their relationship these days was tenuous.

His parents had been angry at having been disturbed and resented having to come home. Mycroft had halted their self-absorbed ranting and told the pair of them he would no longer be attending boarding school and a tutor would be engaged to educate both he and Sherlock at home. Any new Nanny would be on a three-month trial after he had personally vetted her and from now on he would share a room with Sherlock. His Father had gone red in the face at being told what to do by an eight-year-old until Mycroft informed him flatly he really didn’t give a shit what he thought since both he and Mummy didn’t give a damn about either of them and forfeited the right to act like any kind of parent. He coldly told his father if he wanted to make issue of it would drag the Holmes name through the mud by first informing child protection they had allowed a Nanny to abuse them and were never home to ensure their safety and well-being, then he would call a newspaper and give them a scoop on how Father was currently sneaking about with Lady Williams' daughter when Mummy was off at her lunches with the socialites and who was, to his knowledge, not of the legal age of consent to be fornicating with anyone let alone a married man fifteen years her senior.

All hell had broken loose between his parents then; once again they were ignored, he had taken Sherlock upstairs and closed the door so they didn’t have to listen to the arguments. His parents had stayed together for appearance sake, their marriage over behind closed doors. Father had died of a heart attack when Mycroft was 18 and he had come home from University to take care of the arrangements since his Mother pleaded her nerves couldn’t take it though in truth like both he and Sherlock she just didn’t give a damn but found time to lap up the sympathies from the social climbers she rubbed shoulders with. Neither he nor Sherlock had shed a tear at the funeral though their Mother had acted like the grieving widow worthy of an Oscar.

The new Nanny had been efficient and kind but lacked any real warmth. Similarly, the new tutor was knowledgeable and stuck around until Mycroft was ten, packing his bags when he refused to be corrected by a three-year-old Sherlock who told him the atomic weight of Gallium was more than the atomic weight of Zinc even though it was perfectly true. By then neither of them required a tutor since Mycroft was more than capable of educating Sherlock. Like Mycroft, Sherlock had an eidetic memory and was intelligent way beyond his years and by age 11 when Mycroft went to University could spend the time he was away filling his hours with books, experiments and anything that interested him......and deal with anything if the nanny or housekeeper gave him trouble.

“Mycroft?”

“Yes, what can I do for you Anthea?” he asked, looking up at his personal assistant as her voice permeated his memories.

She raised her eyebrows at him, and he knew she had spoken more than once; Mycroft replaced the photograph back into the compartment in his wallet. He hadn’t meant to get into thoughts about the past but the email from Mummy informing him she was getting engaged had brought things back to the surface. He and Sherlock rarely saw her though Mycroft ensured the Holmes estate was both financially and physically secure from any threats. There had been many who had sniffed around the wealthy widow before his Father had barely gone cold in his grave scenting money to be had…. though he cared little for her he would not allow opportunists to try and take what was the property of a Holmes. The man she had become engaged to was a boor and an idiot but a security check on him did not reveal anything untoward, nor did his overflowing bank accounts and investments suggest he was after financial gain from a marriage.

“You seem to be very troubled at the moment.” she observed, and Mycroft noted the genuine worry in the tone of her voice.

“Once again the terrorist level is high for London, the security logistics being devised for two senior Royals to visit abroad are a bit of a nightmare, downstairs are two guests of Her Majesty that won’t give up information on which organisation is funding their little plots to blow up Westminster Abbey and we are ferreting out a mole inside GCHQ passing sensitive information that will only end in embarrassment for a foreign Prime Minister.” Said Mycroft evenly “So forgive me if I am a tad troubled, my dear.”

“Don’t even try, I’ve been at your side for too many years for you to fob me off” said Anthea snippily “None of them are causing you this kind of distraction, you could deal with all of it in your sleep…...is it anything I can help you with?”

“No, just some old wounds.” replied Mycroft softly.

Anthea did not pursue it further; she was the only person aside from Sherlock who was privy to their less than ideal childhood……she was also the only person who had ever seen him fall apart.

He'd had nobody the night Sherlock had very nearly died from an overdose of cocaine save for Anthea who had held him when he began to cry after hanging up the call to his mother who had been callously indifferent and more concerned Sherlock would make a fool of her rather than concerned her son was critically ill. Anthea had listened without saying a word as he unburdened himself, later confiding in him her own unhappy childhood, her two brothers favoured because they were male despite excelling in everything far beyond what they had ever done at every turn.

“I don’t know why you haven’t booked him again?” she asked, broaching the subject she had so far remained silent on "I thought you might……..."

“What?” asked Mycroft pretending he did not know what she was referring to though they both knew why he hadn’t called the agency again yet.

“I notice you’ve not ordered him abducted and shipped off to a black site for calling you a vampire.” said Anthea now thoroughly enjoying herself “So, are you going to book him again?”

“Keep annoying me about him and I’ll have you abducted and shipped off to a Siberian prison.” murmured Mycroft under his breath.

“I’d like to see you try, darling.” snorted Anthea hearing each and every word “I organise your entire life from bullying my way into appointments with the Queen’s Secretary to choosing your ties….who would ensure Christmas cards are sent on time on your behalf, field unwanted visitors and irritating phone calls, check you have taken medications when needed, listen to your blustering, just to name a few things….quite simply I am indispensable, my dear….like all wives are.”

She was quite right; he did not know what he would do without Anthea and indeed if he did not prefer men would have asked her to marry him years ago….and in all probability she would not have turned him down since her own track record with relationships was dismal. 

It had been three months after she had started as his personal assistant he had entered this very office and she had been dressed to seduce him…….any red-blooded heterosexual male would have been gagging at the sight of her clad only in her sheer knickers, lacy bra, high top stockings and high heels draped over his desk in a pose that raised a blush to his cheeks even now….he had been so stunned he’d failed so dismally to deduce this possible situation arising he'd done nothing to stop her pushing him up against the closed office door and trying to kiss him......she had been equally stunned when he'd stopped it going any further, informing her he was extremely flattered and she was an incredibly attractive woman but he was gay. He wasn't sure which one of them was more mortified, her barking up the wrong tree or him telling her that had he been inclined to pleasure her female form she would be more than sexually satisfied.

That evening had never come up in conversation by either of them by unspoken agreement though over time private jokes had arisen between them referring to her as his wife and indeed she was his work wife, which of course, some had assumed that she was actually his wife as well as personal assistant……he’d heard more than one underling murmur about Mycroft getting his leg over in the office at lunchtime, joining the mile high club shagging the missus in the private jet and the best was Anthea fellating him under the desk during a video conference with the CIA Director. It kept unwanted attention from other females at bay though a few had tried their luck which he nipped in the bud quick smart by saying quite truthfully but in a professional capacity that Anthea was the only woman for him. None of the males that might be inclined to harass her had dared do so.

“Are you going to ask me to book him again or go back to Edward?” she asked again persistently.

“Every bit the wife with the nagging too, my dear, and I do not bluster.” said Mycroft mildly “Right now I would like you to put your nurturing wife hat on and inform my housekeeper I would like her mustard seed chicken breast for my dinner with a light salad.”

“I’ll call Mrs Whitby and let her know.” said Anthea with a long-suffering sigh.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off, everything is in order and Melanie can take switchboard to be on hand.” said Mycroft keeping his face carefully blank as he took his wallet from his suit pocket again and withdrew a credit card to proffer to her “Go and….I don’t know, do whatever it is females do to pamper themselves in their spare time…….a hardworking wife deserves a little me time after all.”

Her eyes narrowed; suspicion written all over her face though it wasn’t uncommon for him to send her off to do as she pleased when it was quiet around the office which was not a regular occurrence. She plucked the card from his fingers having no qualms about putting a sizeable dent into his credit card balance, as one of his colleagues had pointed out to another one time – a happy wife meant a happy life.

He returned his focus to the computer screen where his personal email account was opened displaying the unsettling email from Mummy. He would need to speak with Sherlock about it; no doubt the one Mummy had sent his younger brother had been deleted without being opened. He was sorely tempted to just to touch the delete button and pretend he’d never received it having little interest in having to attend a tedious engagement party.

“Off you pop then.” he murmured as she picked up a couple of files needing to go to archiving after he’d read and signed them “And don’t forget to let it slip to that nitwit Brendon on security desk that the husband has sent you out for some racy undergarments to titillate him with tonight. that should stir the rumour mill quite nicely.…it’s been a bit quiet of late.”

“Wicked man.” she admonished with a tinkling laugh and took the folder on the corner of his desk with her before shutting his office door which automatically locked from the other side behind her.

He closed the laptop and glanced at his phone then then touched his lips with his fingers remembering those lips that had unexpectedly kissed him back. As a rule he never kissed the escorts he'd engaged instead turning away if they'd tried which had been only a few times. He'd not kissed anyone since Quentin all those years ago, that had been merely an exercise in learning how to do it but when he had tentatively kissed the man and it had been returned it had felt shockingly intimate. Detective Inspector Lestrade remained stubbornly in Mycroft’s head after that Friday night with him. One could pretend enjoyment at sex like Edward but one could not pretend the genuine reactions Lestrade had shown. He had committed each and every one to memory after cataloging them carefully while he'd bedded Lestrade. Trudie Lestrade had been a fool cheating on Gregory Lestrade. He had tried locking him behind the closed door in his mind where he kept all of them from over the years having now satisfied his desire for the man but his appetite had been whetted and Lestrade now escaped constantly from behind the closed door to distract him.……he shifted in his chair as an erection began to stir in his trousers. 

For months he had managed to refrain from making a booking at the agency upon finding out the Detective Inspector was moonlighting as an escort to pay off hefty debts from his marriage. He’d had known Lestrade was bisexual from the dossier that he’d requested when the policeman had begun interacting with Sherlock, despite him being married for nearly twenty years to the woman the policeman had never cheated on her like she had done him. Mycroft had found Lestrade highly desirable from the moment he’d come to his attention, he’d taken a risky gamble doing what he’d done and for just a moment that evening had debated the wisdom in doing so. Indeed, Lestrade had debated leaving after his initial shock at seeing ‘Scott’, he hadn’t been worried about Lestrade being indiscreet for the Detective Inspector was one of those rare individuals that was entirely trustworthy.

He had been apprehensive, not just because it was Lestrade, but about engaging a new escort as he always was. Edward had been his sole booking for nearly two years though admittedly he had long ago grown bored with the man, so perhaps it had been opportune Edward had not been available because it had forced him to finally engage Lestrade. His apprehension had soon disappeared; not only had Lestrade stayed but he’d kept with the ‘Nathan’ persona he did not come on to him strongly and his calm professional demeanour helped to relax Mycroft. And dear Lord, he had been worth every pound. He'd have paid nine hundred pounds just for his mouth alone. How he would love to spend more than an hour in the man's company, take his time and savour every inch of that beautiful body.

Upon finding Lestrade sitting and watching adult movies Mycroft had been pleasantly surprised. He had expected the usual naked and wanting to get on with it like Edward and others in the past, instead he’d found him still dressed and waiting for Mycroft to direct him. He’d known under those clothes Lestrade was going to be a gorgeous male specimen and he’d not been disappointed. He had always preferred men his own age, and that salt and pepper silvery hair Lestrade sported had always been most arousing. Mycroft bit his lip and palmed his trousered crotch lightly, he was hard…. again. He’d had more erections in the last four weeks than all year. Normally an appointment every three to four months was more than enough to satisfy his libido but since Lestrade it appeared to have a mind of its own requiring him to masturbate daily.

He snatched up his phone, it taking him but a mere moment to find the number and dial the escort agency though it was normally Anthea who made the arrangements. It rang three times before the call was picked up.

“Good afternoon, Venus Escort Agency, Diana speaking.”

“Good afternoon, I would like to make an appointment for this evening” asked Mycroft in his most professional voice.

“Have you an account with us or are you a new client?” asked Diana.

“I have an account, Scott Sherrinford.” answered Mycroft.

“Mr Sherrinford, how lovely to hear from you.” responded Diana cheerily, recognising the name “Edward is available this……”

“I was hoping I might engage Nathan again.” countered Mycroft quickly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m afraid Nathan is unavailable on a Thursday night and is only available Friday, Saturday and Sundays every second weekend” said Diana regretfully “Unfortunately both this weekend and next he has been entirely booked with appointments and won’t be available until a fortnight after that on Friday evening.”

Mycroft swore silently. That simply would not do, he could not wait three bloody weeks! He supposed he could call upon Edward, but the prospect was not very appealing at all.

“Due to the nature of my work I am unable to make firm appointments in advance which you well know.” said Mycroft calmly “I would be most grateful if Nathan could make an exception and accept a booking at 6pm……for the inconvenience should Nathan consent, I would be most agreeable to extend him a fee of two thousand five hundred pounds for one hour of his time.”

He heard the woman splutter in shock then cough to cover it up.

“I can relay your message to Nathan and call you back if you like, Mr Sherrinford?” she said quickly no doubt having already calculated her own five-hundred-pound fee.

“I would prefer to contact you, say, in five minutes?” asked Mycroft. There was no way he was going to hand out his private mobile phone number which had security measures built into it so could not be traced and only ever came up on another phone as unknown caller.

“I’ll contact him now, Mr Sherrinford.” said Diana quickly and hung up.

It was 5.30pm now, time enough to finish up here and go home for a quick shower and choose his clothes before meeting with the man……. if he accepted. Money talked and it would be highly unlikely such an amount would be turned down……after all, he needed the money.

After precisely five minutes had ticked by he called the number again.

“Good afternoon, Venus Escort Agency, Diana speaking.”

“This is Scott Sherrinford.” said Mycroft drumming his fingers on the file impatiently.

“Hello again Mr Sherrinford.” greeted the woman “I’m terribly sorry but Nathan has declined your offer and extends his sincere apologies that he is unable to meet with you." Mycroft’s jaw dropped quite taken aback at the rejection. How could the man turn down two and a half thousand pounds for an hour of his time? It was on the tip of his tongue to offer another thousand on top but he would just appear as pathetic and desperate which he admittedly was. It was a ridiculous amount of money he had offered in the first place, he had never paid that much for sex! But nor had he paid nine hundred pounds either. He huffed, well......Nathan be damned!

“Edward will be fine, 6.30pm at my usual establishment.” said Mycroft snappily.

“No problem, have a lovely evening Mr Sherrinford.” said Diana.

Mycroft tossed his phone to the desk in temper then slumped his shoulders.

No, his evening with Edward would be mundane, his evening would have been lovely with Lestrade. 

He ran his hands through his hair, he'd been ruined now he'd had Lestrade.


	3. Better than the First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Round 2

It had taken ten maddening, exceptionally long weeks and an advanced booking made by Anthea before he could engage ‘Nathan’ again and even then, there was the risk he may not be able to attend the engagement should something requiring his attention arise. Edward had been a less than satisfactory experience and he would not be engaging him again, in the end he had shoved the man’s face into a pillow so he didn’t have to listen to the phony cries of pleasure that had grated on him to the point it detracted from his own pleasure. It was almost tragic that it took him the better part of nearly the hour to reach an orgasm and Edward had been exceedingly pissed off he’d had to stay the entire hour.

Time in that ten weeks dragged though he had been ridiculously busy and then suddenly the day arrived and he’d been on tenterhooks expecting something to derail it, but by 6.50pm on the actual evening Mycroft was feeling as tightly wound as a spring in the same hotel rooms as before, on the one hand he was very much looking forward to the sex, yet on the other he could not help wonder if Lestrade might think him quite pitiful to have offered to pay so much money for an hour of sex. No, that should matter little; after all the man was, by definition, a prostitute though offered other services beside sexual ones, he was paying for the use of man’s body and his thoughts or opinions mattered little.

Sinking onto the sofa he breathed in and out to try and relax, even having helped himself to a small brandy for purely medicinal purposes. Anthea had literally kicked him out of the office assuring him she could take care of the few minor things that needed attending to but would contact him if needed then grinned at him with a leer stating her husband had better return to work well satisfied otherwise she would be taking an impromptu holiday if he continued to be a moody sexually frustrated bastard. He felt no sexual attraction towards her whatsoever, but he had wondered what sex would have been like with her if he’d fancied women……it would interest him to observe her with man sexually. Would she dominate him or yield to him? Would she be aggressive or passive? What positions would she favour?

Mycroft jumped up, startled by the knock on the door. Taking several calming breaths, he sedately walked over to open it.

“Hello Scott.”

Mycroft relaxed as 'Nathan' greeted him with a smile, ever the model of professionalism in keeping with the alternate names.

His utterly delicious hair had grown a little and he wore a nice brown check shirt that made the colour of his eyes look even darker. The older man was even more handsome than last time if that were possible, he could well appreciate such a good-looking man was in demand by both sexes having discreetly found out what clients he’d been servicing on the weekends he worked for the agency, the rest had been taken up with weekend visits from his children and a bout of food poisoning. Another weekend Mycroft had been in Berlin attending a function.

Eye-candy. That was how he would describe ‘Nathan’, having a distinguished, handsome look that would appeal to females of all ages and a nice masculine physique with a boyish charm he that would appeal to older and younger men.

“Good evening, won’t you come in?” asked Mycroft stepping aside so the man could enter, noting the still slightly damp hair and the waft of crisp scent that was very pleasant though not overdone and different to what he wore to work.

‘Nathan’ laid a darker brown jacket that had been slung over his shoulder onto the back of the sofa while Mycroft fetched the money from the pocket in his suit jacket that hung in the closet next to the door.

“You are a difficult man to secure, quite in demand.” said Mycroft handing ‘Nathan’ the money that was already counted who tucked it into his pocket of his jacket on the sofa.

“Life is just busy” answered ‘Nathan’ simply. “This time of year is busy with all the festivities.”

“Of course, Christmas functions and the like are abundant at the moment.” said Mycroft taking a sip of his brandy “Secret Santa’s, office parties…. mingling.”

Christmas was treated no different to the rest of the year though Mrs Hudson, Sherlock’s landlady, had invited him around on Christmas Eve and he always purchased Anthea a little something. Both he and Sherlock held no sentiment for the festive season, visits from the mythical Santa Claus had never figured in their lives, their parents had the staff put up a tree and place gifts under it while they spent their Christmases in tropical destinations.

“Can I offer you a drink?” asked Mycroft remembering his manners.

“A nip of rum would be lovely, thank you.” responded ‘Nathan’ and continued talking while Mycroft fetched him the drink “I’ve quite enjoyed attending different functions, interesting people and fabulous food though I think I’ve heard Jingle Bells so many times it would be enough to last me a lifetime.”

The response he’d been going to give dissipated when Mycroft turned around with ‘Nathans’ drink and stared at the fantastic arse hugged by trousers while the man bent to take off his shoes and socks. Even though he had masturbated only a short time ago another erection was making itself known inside of his underwear, the pleasant warmth of arousal already surging through him again.

He gaped like an idiot as ‘Nathan’ stood back up and turned, skin now showing where the shirt had been unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. For a fleeting moment he envisioned taking the few steps towards ‘Nathan’ and ripping the shirt open to touch the smooth, tanned flesh…….

Mycroft gulped down the last mouthful of his brandy, now unaccountably nervous, the older man gazed at him and Mycroft averted his own gaze feeling unusually self-conscious. ‘Nathan’ padded towards him, took the glass with the nip of rum in it with one hand and reached out to pluck the empty tumbler from Mycrofts fingers, place it on the shelf then take hold of Mycroft’s tie with the other to draw him along without waiting for any direction this time. Mycroft silently followed, shocked by the brazen action that nobody in the circles he moved in would ever dare do……frightened of The Iceman.

Once inside the bedroom ‘Nathan’ let go of the tie then reached down to open Mycroft’s button and zipper with one hand while finishing the rum as he lowered his trousers and peeled down his underwear, both pooling on top of Mycroft’s shoes Pushing him down to sit on the edge of the bed he took a condom packet from the pocket of his own trousers and slid to his knees in front of him, placing the empty tumbler aside on the carpet. With deft fingers a bright pink condom was quickly rolled on and the smell of strawberry wafted into his nostrils. Flavoured condoms. Something he had never thought to purchase but would in all likelihood taste far better than standard condoms that also smelled unpleasant to his nose.

Mycroft couldn’t help himself and raised a hand, he needed to card his fingers into the damp softness of that stunning silvery hair and loosely threaded it between his fingers, spreading his knees so ‘Nathan’ had better access and leaned back on his other hand as ‘Nathan’ grasped his cock at the base, the other cupped his testicles while his firm tongue slid over the head of his prick. God, his mouth was exquisite. ‘Nathan’ sucked slowly, tongue dancing around the ridge then pressing up against the sensitive frenulum and Mycroft bit back a groan wishing he could feel the moist muscle without the barrier of a condom. 

Normally he just closed his eyes but this time he watched, wanting to see Nathan’s cheeks hollow, see those sumptuous lips wrapped around his prick as he was sucked and that tongue darting out to lick him like his prick was an icecream. There was no crude slurping or performance aspect for Mycrofts benefit as he bobbed slowly up and down, the pace was quite leisurely and he wondered if the older man was as partial to having his mouth on a woman as he was fellating a man. He’d had many a mouth suck him down like a high-powered Hoover, lacking any finesse with the intention of trying to make him come as quickly as possible but ‘Nathan’ was again unhurried, appearing to enjoy performing fellatio and certainly had made an art of it.

He swallowed down a moan as ‘Nathan’ again took him into his throat like last time, the pressure made Mycroft bite at his lips and grip at the bedspread tightly, a stuttered breath escaped him as the older man hummed sending delicious vibrations through his shaft, he exhaled shakily when ‘Nathan’ pulled back, gasping when he deep throated him twice more. He wondered how much practice he’d needed to do it so effortlessly or if it had been mastered naturally with the lack of a gag reflex, well aware of the multiple male partners he’d had before he’d met Trudie. 

Mycroft could learn a language in four hours, decipher a coded cryptology message in three hours and mastered fencing in two but he was unable perform the same whore’s trick without choking…… he’d had abundant practice on one of the smaller dildos he carefully kept concealed in his bedroom in an effort to master it but his gag reflex would simply not be trained to not choke and heave.

He wanted to whine with frustration as ‘Nathan’ took his mouth off his prick, stood and took a step back which meant having to relinquish the lovely silvery hair in his hands but one look at the mussed up strands and the swollen lips more than made up for the abandonment. Dark eyes regarded Mycroft and he kept his face expressionless as he watched the man shuck the brown shirt to the floor then undid his trousers before both trousers and the obscenely tight green boxer shorts underneath joined the shirt of the floor. Mycroft stared at the vision of naked masculinity before him. Leonardo Da Vinci’s ideals be damned, this male was Mycroft’s Vitruvian Man and his mouth watered with want.

“What would make your evening pleasurable tonight, Scott?”

The other man slid up on to the bed next to him and lay back on one elbow: in a calculated move he slid a hand up his thigh lifting a leg to rest a foot on the edge of the bed. Mycroft wanted to tear his eyes away at the seductive pose, a move he had seen more times than he could count, but on ‘Nathan’ it was devastatingly effective and tempting, tempting him even further when he bent knee back offering up what lay between those muscular thighs. He flicked a glance to ‘Nathans’ face expecting to find a feigned coy expression with amusement underneath, the man wouldn’t be the first to wordlessly mock him for paying for sex but he found no hint of ridicule or a bored falseness in his expression.

After a moment’s hesitation he twisted round and gently touched the other man’s testicles, they were lush, the skin soft and waxed free from pubic hair. He gathered both sacs in his palm, but it was exquisite prick that had him transfixed. ‘Nathan’ took the erect organ in a hand and stroked it in his fist, Mycroft was mesmerised by the foreskin that slipped over the end like a snug sleeping bag then retracted back to reveal the shiny head underneath……watching as a drop of pearly liquid beaded up from the slit. It took considerable will power not to lean down and lap the moisture off with his tongue.

The thick prick was glorious, he’d calculated it was a little over eight inches long when fully erect …. he licked his lips at the thought of cramming it into his own mouth to gorge on it like a decadent dessert. How he would love the man to hold him in place by his hair and feed him his prick, to fuck his mouth, make him choke on it and then come on his face, ordering him to lick his prick clean afterwards……or better still, pin him in place and stuff it up his arse, impaling him on his cock and then fucking him against a wall with it.

Mycroft was almost breathless at his imaginings; he did not trouble himself with such things on a physical level but it did not stop him fantasising about being manhandled, tied up so he was helpless or being made love to…. escorts were generally focused on getting the job done as efficiently as possible and had little to no interest in seeking any pleasure themselves he’d found. Mycroft did not foolishly expect someone he paid to have sex with to enjoy it, he wasn’t blind to the faked orgasms or pretended noises of enjoyment…. indeed, that was why he rarely touched them any more than necessary and preferred to either just let them use their mouths or penetrate them from behind so that it was easier for them to act out the charade.

He did not take it for granted this would be a repeat performance of last time though he hoped it was exactly like last time. ‘Nathan’ had acted out no charade. In the 19 years he had been engaging escorts he’d never had sex like he’d had with ‘Nathan’ even with Quentin it had not come close. The man had not squirmed away when he tried to make it pleasurable and hadn’t made exaggerated noises that sounded like a terrible pornographic movie. 

The expression on his face and the reactions of his body had not been faked.......dilated pupils, increased respiration, flushed skin, increased heart rate when he’d felt his pulse holding his wrists, darkened aerola, erect nipples, tightening of the stomach muscles, internal muscular contractions. The authenticity of his reactions further proven when ejaculate had striped over and sullied Mycroft’s shirt and waistcoat, he was able to achieve an orgasm untouched too. And he’d been stunning in the throes of his orgasm, profanity falling from his mouth as his body had writhed and quaked underneath Mycroft. He’d uttered his own profanity as he found his own pleasure. He had been more than a little frightened when the older man had fallen into la petit mort but after checking his breathing, colour and pulse were normal he rolled the man into a more dignified position and covered his nudity with a blanket then left as fast as he could. He’d had fingerprints bruised into the skin on his sides where fingers had dug into him that took over a week to disappear.

‘Nathan’ appeared at ease with Mycroft touching him. Cushioning his head on his shoulder ‘Nathan’ took his hand away when Mycroft abandoned the testicles and then touched the silky skin at the base of his erection. It was divine to touch a prick other than his own, he traced his fingers over the veins and mapped the surface of the warm turgid skin, his mouth watered again as he grasped the girth and lightly palmed it in his fist. Between the hitched breath and the flesh in his hand growing harder one did not need to make any deductions that the other man welcomed the fondling.

“That feels nice.” commented ‘Nathan’ encouragingly.

“You have a lovely prick” said Mycroft quietly after working up the courage to truthfully flatter the man. He was not one to articulate compliments freely and found them even more difficult to receive.

“Thank you.”

Mycroft was grateful the compliment was taken with a minimum of fuss, thankful the man did not seek to fish for more compliments or gush out false ones in return. His fingers itched to touch the scar on his thigh, a stab wound from his teenage years that had been clumsily stitched up, from its placement Mycroft knew the knife that had caused it had very nearly caused his death, just a scant few millimetres more and he likely would have bled out from a perforated femoral artery.

Mycroft blinked as ‘Nathan’ rolled over the moment he let go of his prick, scooting up and reaching to drag a pillow down from the top of the bed to wedge under his hips to rest comfortably and opened his legs, presenting his beautiful arse. Mycroft shifted on to the bed and between the older man’s legs, pulse quickening as he grasped those gorgeous cheeks and moved them apart to look at the dusky coloured rose he would dearly love to coax open with his tongue after burying his face there. Instead he took out a packet of lubricant from the pocket of his waistcoat and coated his fingers after opening it, warming it first before lightly smoothing it liberally down the cleft and gently rubbing it over the wrinkled dusky skin.

He pressed a finger against the visibly oiled pucker, it sliding easily into the already slick and loosened channel that the man had pre-prepared before meeting with him. Perhaps next time he would ask ‘Nathan’ to finger himself while he watched, that brought with it a variety of titillating images to mind, he thought of those plugs he had seen online and how lovely one of the sterling silver pieces with perhaps an emerald would look adorning this beautiful arse.

Adding another finger, he eased them into the still snug cavity to loosen the muscle further. It took little to slide both fingers in and out easily, it helped that ‘Nathan’ was relaxed and pliant. Turning his fingers and bending them just so, now was generally the time others had squirmed away finding this touch too intimate, much like kissing, far too personal or unwanted….

“Fuck!”

Mycroft froze, mouth going dry at the shouted profanity in case this time it was unwanted, but instead of Nathan squirming away the man wriggled his arse pushing back to get the fingers further into his arse just like last time. Mycroft obliged pressing his fingers in as far as he could get them then returned to the little walnut sized gland, rewarded with moans and indrawn breaths that were positively indecent and provocative. The salacious sounds made him feel hot, and under the linen shirt and waistcoat he began to sweat. Pulling his fingers out he dabbled a little more lubricant on his fingers and slipped back into the loosened passage, biting his lip Mycroft delivered a light slap to one of those muscular globes sucking in his breath when ‘Nathan’ made a lewd noise. He gave a light slap to the other one, rewarded with another lewd noise that was then muffled into a pillow. No, that would not do. He wanted to hear the other man’s enjoyment, not have the sounds stifled in a pillow. Removing his fingers Mycroft took another condom from his waistcoat pocket.

“Turn over please and leave the pillow underneath you.” asked Mycroft rolling the condom on himself and used the last of the lubricant from the packet to smear around it.  
‘Nathan’ had rolled over as he’d requested, tucking two pillows under his pelvis then drawing up and opening his legs so that Mycroft could move up between them. The other man looked utterly debauched, his cheeks were flushed, dark eyes dilated and his beautiful cock hard and wet. ‘Nathan’ brought his knees up higher, turned his head and closed his eyes. Mycroft braced himself on an arm to reach down position himself. It took all his willpower not to let his eyes roll back into his head and groan as he started to slip inside the man, God it was heaven, the slicked channel was hot around his prick and ‘Nathan’s’ arse was so tight he could well imagine this must be what it felt like to take a virgin.

‘Nathan’ was anything but the shy virgin though and draped a calf over his waist as leverage to angle his hips up to make the slide easier. Pleasure skittered over the other man’s face at being entered, clearly he enjoyed the burn of being penetrated, something Mycroft had found quite uncomfortable when Quentin had deflowered him. Steadying himself on one hand Mycroft grasped the inside of the thigh of the leg not draped over his waist and lifted it higher and pressed it down to spread Nathan open even further, the man arched beneath him with a sharp intake of breath as Mycroft buried himself to the hilt.

The masculine scent and warmth of ‘Nathans’ body assaulted his senses, he was in no hurry to gain his satisfaction quickly and began to slowly fuck the other man. Remembering how sensitive ‘Nathan’ had been to having his fingers on his chest the last time he bent and traced his tongue around a milk chocolate coloured nipple then flicked it over the pointed tip, gratified by the stuttered breath that came from the older man. Encouraged, Mycroft took the taut flesh into his mouth suckling on the nub like a newborn babe tasting the soap and natural flavour spreading over his taste buds. He gave the other flat nipple the same attention, biting lightly after he’d suckled it to a hard point. Nathan mewled and then startled Mycroft by combing his fingers into his hair.

His first instinct was to shy away. He was unused to being touched but he shivered as blunt nails scratched across his scalp lightly; the bitten off groan that escaped his throat was mortifying as goose bumps rose along his skin sending incredible sensations flooding though him. He had imagined hands in his hair like this but had no idea how much of an erogenous zone it would be for him. ‘Nathan’ twisted his fingers in his hair and pulled to inflict just a bite of pain and he was unable to prevent the undignified whine of utter pleasure at the forceful behaviour that made him quiver with desire.

“No.” gasped Mycroft, alarmed at the primal feeling inside him that threatened his self-control.

‘Nathan’ let go immediately when Mycroft drew back from him.

“God, yes!” the other man moaned as Mycroft pulled out aside from the last two inches and shallowly thrust inside him.

‘Nathans’ face was twisted into ecstatic agony, loud groans shamelessly fell from his lips and his arse tightened each time Mycroft penetrated him, selfishly lost in the sensations of having a prick know exactly how to get at that special spot inside him. Intoxicated, Mycroft swiveled his hips as well to the heighten the other man’s pleasure, spellbound at watching ‘Nathan’ fall apart at his hands, feeling the man trembling and hearing the utterly carnal noises coming from his slack open mouth. At the moment ‘Nathan’ was his perfect wet dream, a man so secure in his masculinity that he felt no shame in sex and took pleasure in it. 

Shifting position Mycroft fell forward and braced his hands of the mattress gasping as the older man planted his feet on the bed, grabbed hold of Mycrofts arse cheeks in both hands to pull him down and canted his hips up to fuck him back instead of remaining a passive participant.

“Harder.” pleaded ‘Nathan’ gruffly “Fuck me harder.”

The man choked out a guttural cry as Mycroft took him roughly, their skin slapping loudly together. The bed clattered into the wall, eliciting a squeaks as they bounced on the mattress. Balancing on one arm Mycroft scratched over an erect nipple, taking it between his fingers and twisting it to elicit a yelp from Nathan. Mycroft also yelped when hands raked into his hair, seized hold of it firmly and brought his head down to slot their mouths together. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, or indeed like the previous time they had kissed. The kiss was hard and passionate; Mycroft felt like an untried youth as Nathan bruised his lips and licked his tongue inside his mouth. Mycroft greedily devoured him in return. He broke the kiss reluctantly, dragging oxygen into his lungs and face growing hot with the noises he was now making, huffing moans and gasping in the most embarrassing way that made him cringe inwardly.

The fingers in Mycroft’s hair pulled, it made him shriek and start shivering going straight to his prick. He grit his teeth trying to hold back his orgasm, attempting to reach between them to try and hurry things along when the other mans hips stuttered and stilled, he then cried out Mycroft’s name as he climaxed. The rhythmic clamping of the other man’s arse around his prick and painful tugging on his hair wrung an orgasm out of him so overwhelming that it sent his mind offline, going completely blank, then sputtering back online as he slumped, arms shaking, on top of the other man.

Both of them were panting and he could feel Nathans heart hammering as fast as his own through his clothes. Mycroft swallowed after a few moments, quite sure his cheeks were neon red since they were burning hotly as post coital awkwardness seeped in now that the thrall of sexual arousal wore off. He needed to escape, gather himself….

Without looking at the man he lifted up, carefully held the condom in place and then shuffled away before hitching up the trousers and underwear pooled at his still shoe clad feet and quickly went to use the other bathroom leaving the one in the master bedroom for Nathan to use. After disposing of the condom and cleaning the front of his waistcoat and shirt as best he could of ejaculate he gazed at his reflection in the mirror and grimaced at his untidy hair, mottled red face and swollen lips. He looked rumpled and every bit like he’d just been having sex.

Washing his hands, he then arranging his clothing back into place and smoothed his hair back to its usual neat style lingering for a few minutes composing in his mind what he was going to say. Calm, he left the bathroom, the jacket that had been laid across the sofa was gone as was 'Nathan'; upon further inspection he found the suite decidedly empty and the bathroom unused. Mycroft sunk down to sit onto the edge of the messed-up bed. He touched his bruised lips and slumped back with a groan and covered his face in mortification. 

He had lost control of himself……and he was sure he’d never get out his ears the way his name had been cried out in the midst of orgasm.

He could not do this again…..

He definitely could not do this again……

He stared at the wallpapered ceiling.

“Fuck!”

He wondered how quickly he could meet with Lestrade again.


End file.
